


we’re too young and irresponsible and yet we are still running

by VITRI0L



Category: DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: /roleplay, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Clay | Dream and Toby Smith | Tubbo are Siblings, DadShatt, Family Issues, Found Family, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pain, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), adopted clay, he isn’t a good parent in this one, no beta we die like wilbur, phil’s a good dad :), sbi as a family, this is me giving smp!dream a character motivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VITRI0L/pseuds/VITRI0L
Summary: dream is tired of watching his father deteroirate before his very eyes. he knows a man who will keep tubbo safe.//lowercase intented\\//TW:\\ alcoholism & implied child abuse
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 17
Kudos: 508





	we’re too young and irresponsible and yet we are still running

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lee30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee30/gifts).



> i was inspired by lee03’s work in the dad schlatt tag and i made this! creative liberties were taken and i kinda merged this with some ideas that i had.
> 
> hope you enjoy and stay safe <3

his dad’s passed out drunk again.

schlatt slumps over on the stained couch, bottle in hand and head resting on the armrest. his hair is a mess, there are bags under his eyes and there are empty bottles on the glass coffee table.

dream sneaks quietly from the living room, afraid to make any noise. the dirty blond was merely thirteen, but he was reserved and intelligent. he reads people easily, a skill he picked up quickly when their lives had suddenly changed.

the teen quietly opens a wooden door, light from the hall spilling in and illuminating that change.

dream’s not stupid nor naïve. he knows that he’s adopted. schlatt was a ram hybrid with curling horns and folded ears covered with white fur and dream was just a human boy. besides, his father was only thirty years old and all his friend’s dads were around forty.

life had been ok. they struggled for money occasionally and schlatt worked two part time jobs, but they made it by alright, being able to afford a lower middle class life.

that all changed when toby was born.

dream creeps to the side of his bed (they had to share), looking upon the peacefully ignorant form of his baby brother. the brunet boy was smiling gently and it pained dream to have to shake him awake.

“wha’?” tubbo mumbled.

“shhh. come on, we gotta go,” dream whispers cautiously.

the hybrid boy frowns but he gets out of bed with his brother’s help. once he’s standing on his own, in those footy pyjama’s that used to be dream’s, the blond grabbed the packed bookbag he’d hid under the bed.

“let’s go, buddy,” he says.

he offers tubbo a hand which the boy quickly takes.

they tiptoe carefully out of their shared room and into the kitchen. quickly, dream scribbles a poorly written note and leaves it on the counter. he doesn’t want to get caught, but he forces the worry that bubbles in his stomach down. the dishes are piled in the sink and the cold tile stinks of alcohol.

dream hates the smell of alcohol.

hand in hand, dream drags toby out of the dingy apartment and their escape goes unnoticed. even the apartment door, whose rusty hinges usually groan loudly, seems to understand and lets them out with no more than a quiet whine.

there is a crumpled piece of paper in dream’s green hoodie. it holds the address of a man who lives a twenty minute walk away. he has adopted kids before, and from all that dream could find, he’s a good dad. 

the night is cold as dream reminisces.

he had been eight when schlatt had come home late one night. tears poured down his father’s face and there was something held securely to his chest.

it was a baby boy, wrapped in a quilted blanket who was eerily quiet. dream didn’t have to ask to know that this boy was his brother. 

with two mouths to feed, schlatt struggled even more. his jobs barely covered them now and there were nights that they’d go without food to meet rent payments. dream had done his best to help out, picking up odd jobs to make some petty cash.

petty cash that his father used to by alcohol.

dream never complained.

he didn’t want the consequences.

the blond won’t allow himself to blame the breakdown off their family on toby, however. he knew that wasn’t fair. but, he was angry and that anger often came out in unfair ways.

he refused to direct it at toby, however.

dream was jaded and concealed with a heart full of mistrust.

and the only love he held onto was that for his baby brother.

they’d been walking for around fifteen minutes when tubbo began to whine. frowning, dream glances down at the boy, trying to look for any physical injuries.

“my feet hurt,” tubbo tells him, brown eyes full of weary tears.

sighing, they stop. dream bends down and sweeps the five year old off his feet. tubbo makes a surprised noise but he doesn’t struggle as dream carries him bridal style down the hard pavement.

dream is wiry due to malnutrition.

but when tubbo presses his face into the older’s chest, remaining tears gently staining the green material, the teen can feel his heart swell painfully. he forgets about the protests of his weary muscles and tries not to let sadness suffocate him.

they round a corner, going down a street lit with orange lamps by the sidewalks and nice suburban homes.

_this is it._

dream walks up to a well lit white house. it’s nearly eleven pm, but there are still lights on in the house. the blond places tubbo down and they walk hand in hand up to the front porch.

“why are we here?” tubbo asks confused.

dream tenses slightly, pressing the doorbell reluctantly.

 _don’t do this,_ his minds whispers desperately.

his eyes burn.

“cus we can’t stay with dad,” he says.

tubbo frowns, but he doesn’t argue with dream. the brunet is painfully kind and selfless, even. he seems to be aware of everyone’s plight and he wants to do everything in his rather limited power to help out.

the white door opens with a creak, revealing a tall, blond man in a green shirt that’s draped with a black robe and a green and white stripped hat on. his blue eyes fill with concern as he looks down at the two clearly exhausted boys.

“are you phil watson?” dream asks bluntly.

the man stutters for a second.

“y-yes, i am,” phil says, confused. “who are you.”

dream bites the inside of his cheek. he doesn’t want to tell this man his name, but he seems so nice.

“i’m dream, and this is my brother tubbo, or toby,” he states, “and i need a favour.”

“what’s that?”

the blond notices the ensemble that has appeared behind phil. two boys who look to be dream’s age stand next together, peaking out from behind their father. on the other side of phil is a young blond boy, looking no older than tubbo’s age.

dream sighs.

“i need you to adopt toby,” he says quietly. “we... can’t stay with our father anymore for many reasons- just, please help him.”

he gestures to his brother, who’s staring wide eyed up at him. dream pretends not to notice the way those eyes tear up or the way the tiny hand holds his a little tighter.

“what about you?” phil asks gently.

dream casts his green eyes to the floor, unwilling to get emotional in front of so many strangers.

“i have somewhere to go. please, take care of him.”

phil’s expression holds so much pain and worry in his blue eyes, but there’s something deeper. a sort of fire, but not the same kind that dream is used to seeing in different eyes. it’s a good fire.

“of course, i’ll help him,” the man tells him.

relief floods through dream and he takes a deep breath. he drops to kneel facing tubbo, whose bottom lip is wobbling and whose tears are barely contained.

“dream-“ tubbo whispers, voice breaking.

the teen gently cups the brunet’s face with both of his gloved hands. he stares into tubbo’s eyes, heart breaking the longer he looks. his heart feels like it will explode any second.

“toby, i want you to forget all about dad, ok?” he asks. “forget about him and forget all of the... bad things. schlatt’s not dad anymore. this is your home now, understand?”

fat tears roll down his baby brother’s rosy cheeks.

“will i see you again, dream?”

toby doesn’t know his name. he places his face beside tubbo’s, whispering into his ear.

“my name’s clay.”

when he moves back, tubbo pulls him into a bruising hug. dream doesn’t answer the question, unwilling to make promises he can’t keep. he just stays in the warm hug that crushes him for as long as the world will let him.

they pull away and dream stands up. the kids behind phil watch with tear expressions (except for the pink haired one, who only seems moderately dismayed) and even phil himself can seem to barely contain his. dream pulls off the backpack and hands it to the man that he prays will be toby’s father.

dream makes eye contact with phil and suddenly the words are spilling from his lips.

“his name is toby and his nickname is tubbo. his birthday is december twenty third, he’s only five and his a ram hybrid. he’s kind, sweet and a really great brother. he likes strawberries, but hates bananas so don’t make him eat those and he really likes bees too and-“

the teen cuts himself off, suddenly embarrassed. there is no laughter and the night is deadly silent.

“thank you, dream. are you ready, tubbo?” phil questions softly.

toby looks up to dream one last time and the teen nods. 

“yeah,” he mumbles, looking up to the blond man.

dream gives toby’s hand one last squeeze before letting it go. 

“i love you, clay,” tubbo whispers without looking at him.

the brunet steps over the hearth of his new home, ushered in by the little blond kid who looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t. they’re joined by the brunet teen, who’s hair nearly covers his teary eyes. the night suddenly feels so much colder to dream when he watches his baby brother walking into the warm home.

phil and the pink haired boy linger by the door. the father’s eyes are kind and questioning as they silently ask the teen one last question. he shakes his head.

the door closed gently and dream catches those red eyes full of curiosity before it’s shut.

there is another address in dream’s pocket, one his been to many times before.

sapnap and george are waiting for him.

so, clay sets off into the dark, cold night with the silver moon as his only witness. he is merely thirteen, but he wishes he were older. someone powerful and worthy of the attention of others.

clay promises to find a home.

_i love you to the moon and back, toby._

•••

_schlatt,  
i’ve taken toby and we’ve gone. don’t ask where to, i wouldn’t tell you if you did. you probably don’t care anyways. you’ve struggled, i get that but toby deserves a good life. neither one of us can give him that so i’ve found someone who can. please don’t look for us.  
we’re starting over and you should too.  
i would say rot in hell, but it’s not really your fault. just like it’s not toby’s fault.  
how the fuck do i end this?  
goodbye.  
clay_

**Author's Note:**

> listen, here me out,
> 
> i like the idea of dream’s entire character motivation on the smp being that he just wants a place to call home. they make fun of him for being homeless and dream doesn’t like it because he built the smp to create a home for him and his friends. so following this logic, the reason dream butts into ever conflict is because he wants the other characters to stop tearing his smp apart and ruining his home.  
> alright, rant over :)
> 
> can’t believe i uploaded twice today 
> 
> i hope you’re well <3
> 
> have a good evening!


End file.
